


Greatest Hits

by Astrarian



Series: Writer's Month, August 2020 [13]
Category: Glee
Genre: Dancing, Established Relationship, F/F, Songfic Elements, Writer's Month 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrarian/pseuds/Astrarian
Summary: Brittany's dancing toMe Against the Musicwhen Santana gets home.(Writer's month 2020 - Day 13: music)
Relationships: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Series: Writer's Month, August 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861909
Kudos: 30
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	Greatest Hits

Santana hears the bass from their apartment on her way up the stairs. In and of itself bass reverberation doesn’t mean anything because she and Brittany don’t live quietly, no matter which way you mean it. What means something is the faint but recognisable voices of Britney Spears and Madonna, and the funky guitar rhythm that accompanies the bass.

Santana’s grinning long before she opens the door, wondering how seriously Brittany will be dancing along and whether she’s singing as well. She slides her keys out of the lock and tosses them down immediately, along with her bag and her coat, kicking the door shut behind her.

“Britt, where you at?” she calls outs. It’s an announcement of her arrival rather than a question that needs an answer. She wants Brittany to be as excited to hear that she’s back as Santana is to come home to a happy Brittany. 

The reply is louder singing, which serves as an answer in its own way. Definitely happy. There aren’t many places she can be in an apartment this size, anyway, so Santana follows the beat into the living room. She doesn’t spare a glance for the view of the street in the late afternoon sun, the cats, Brittany’s phone screen, none of it. Her eyes are only for Brittany.

Brittany’s tossing her hair and bumping her hips, a thin sheen of sweat over her bare shoulders and upper chest. She must have been dancing for a few songs, because she looks like she’s glowing. The song reaches the end of the second verse and as required by the lyrics, there’s no hesitation in Brittany’s movements as she switches from hip gyrations to a step sequence wildly more intricate than most people could ever pull out on the fly, matching the speed of the singing in the pre-chorus. Even when Brittany’s not trying she can’t pass for an amateur dancer. Santana can dance, when she tries, but she knows she never has been and never will be a real match for Brittany on the dancefloor, especially not without practice. Thank God that doesn’t keep her from being Britt’s favourite partner. Thank God Brittany doesn’t care at all.

For her part, Santana still knows all of the words by heart. She leans against the door frame, singing along without even really thinking about it. Brittany meets her gaze, grinning, and swivels to face Santana. Now she performs, though Santana’s the only member of the audience.

She’s a very appreciative audience. Santana swings her hips off the wall for Brittany’s eyes only and raises her singing game. Why they don’t immediately gravitate towards each other... well, Madonna and Britney didn’t touch until the end of the music video, except when Madonna tugged Britney’s tie. Maybe that explains it. Or maybe it’s simply because staring is hot. Either way, Brittany’s clearly not in the mood to stop dancing just yet, and Santana’s of a mind to keep right on observing, because Britt’s moves for the chorus are getting Santana in the zone just as fast as a deliberately whispered word or a careless touch.

She pushes off the wall when the hook starts and saunters into the room. Brittany circles her, still dancing yet also obviously waiting for Santana to make her move, smiling expectantly.

The song plays on. Santana hasn’t lost control yet but singing feels more and more like muscle memory as her focus zeroes in on Brittany’s mouth. It looks like dancing is becoming more automatic and less deliberate for Brittany, too.

“Come over here, I got something to show ya,” Santana sings, pointing at Brittany and then at herself. Brittany, still grinning, still swerving, does so. 

“Sexy lady,” Santana mouths, which— _yeah_. Yeah, no kidding.

She knows exactly what beat she wants to hit.

 _If you think you’re so hot, better show me what you got_ , Madonna sings, and Brittany’s in clutching distance, and Santana drags her in to kiss her.

She’s still aware of the music—they both keep on swaying in time with the chorus, the hook, the chorus again—but she’s far more aware of Brittany’s mouth on her own, the sticky feel of skin on skin as she loops her arms around Brittany’s neck. She gets lost in her, closing her eyes, which is just as it should be really. Brittany is the stuff dreams are made of, most definitely the stuff Santana’s dreams are made of.

 _Me Against the Music_ ends with Madonna’s encouragement for them to take it down and the breathy chuckle that Santana knows makes Brittany imagine being slammed up against a wall. Santana tugs on Brittany’s hips firmly instead, pressing them together. Brittany’s smirk tastes exactly like something she’s craved for years.

“Please,” Santana whispers, desire making her dig her fingernails into Brittany’s waist. At the same time, the familiar start of the song _Stronger_ blares in her ears. It’s perhaps not the most mood-setting song, though it has its charms, and it’s the song that Santana’s brain has come to expect after _Me Against the Music_ , thanks to the Greatest Hits album. Other choices just feel a little wrong, after that.

Brittany expects it too, her hands staying still for a moment on Santana’s back as the beat builds, and then flying with perfect timing to the hem of Santana’s shirt, pulling desperately.

“Yes,” Brittany gasps, a sentiment that Britney echoes in the background.

Honestly, they’ve probably done it to Britney Spears before (they’ve done everything before and they’ll do it all again right now, right now), but that’s going to prove distracting.

Santana pulls back from Brittany, pleased when the blonde follows her mouth with a low whimper of protest. “Hang on, just gotta…” she says, taking the necessary steps to grab Brittany’s phone and hit pause.

Though silence rules for a second, Brittany’s only a step behind Santana. When she kisses the back of Santana’s neck, Santana drops the phone and moans, creating a different kind of music, and starting a different kind of dance.


End file.
